


Possumpelt's Monologue

by RoadsideGopnik



Series: The Eyes of The Cursed [3]
Category: Warrior Cats - Fandom, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Antagonist Death, Character Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Female Antagonist, Gen, Past Abuse, So yeah, Verbal Abuse, and accidently a diss on some ppl, oc stuff - Freeform, reworked a bit so might be a bit bad, this is an indirect callout to a certain fanculture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoadsideGopnik/pseuds/RoadsideGopnik
Series: The Eyes of The Cursed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769809
Kudos: 2





	Possumpelt's Monologue

Possumpelt lies on their moss den comfortably, half-tired as they notice you, a kit, walk in with your denmates (and perhaps a queen) as you respectfully sit and wait for them to start telling stories.

POSSUMPELT _:_ So! You kits wanna hear a story, huh?

POSSUMPELT: Gather ‘round now. Say, the other clanmates probably told you about the story of Nectarthorn, did they?

Possumpelt pauses to wait for a reaction or an answer. You sit in confusion and tilt your head, as you don’t really come outside of the nursery den, yet the queens and caretakers have never mentioned any feline called “Nectarthorn”.

POSSUMPELT: I see....

POSSUMPELT: Would you like to hear about that? Or would you prefer another story? This one is rather a bit too scary to some so I’m good with any.

You happily nod as your ears fidget, excited to listen to the elder’s words.

They snort as they remember the days when they were still a warrior full of life and passion for their clan and hobbies, your energy warms their heart as they’re relieved that you’re so willing to listen to them. But their smile to the sky eventually became a frown as their prideful head slowly faces the ground in remorse. For a short while, they stay quiet in a brooding atmosphere. You start to worry about their state of mind, even though you’re just a kit. Possum starts to notice your concerned little face, and they snap back to reality.

POSSUMPELT: Oh! Heheh, sorry kids. Forgot about my story for a second there. I hope you didn’t mind.

You understand.

POSSUMPELT: Okay! So…

POSSUMPELT: Nectarthorn was once called Nectarbriar when she was alive. She was also a member of our clan too. With shimmering smooth fur, a beautiful face and elegance in his posture, everyone saw her as a polite and all-round molly, always smiling and complimenting her fellow clanmates and other cats wherever she walked. Many cats, young and old, looked up to her. By the stars, perhaps some of them are still alive today. Ironically, she was a grey tabby like me too, but she was a, how do I say this to make you understand, had her stripes like a tiger! Yeah.

They try to laugh in an attempt to loosen the air up a bit, tigers are often the common fear among kittens. You blink as you continue to listen to what the oh-wise tabby has on their story.

POSSUMPELT: You’re not scared of tigers?

You shake your head, and await for their response.

POSSUMPELT: Huh! A brave one. I guess never knowing what a tiger looks like and thus never being in a situation against one of them wouldn’t be a reason to be scared of them anyway. I like you, kid!

POSSUMPELT: Anyway…. let’s continue.

POSSUMPELT: I was quite the average warrior back then. No special powers, no great personality, insignificant skills, I just couldn’t really see through people.

Possumpelt then lowers their head to you as they whisper something. They seem half embarrassed and half joyful, it’s been a long time since the last kit wanted to talk to them.

POSSUMPELT: (And I still can’t, by the way)

You giggle, and the old green-eyed nonbinary chuckles and laughs with you as well. You two are having fun spending time together. Possumpelt proceeds to continue the story.

POSSUMPELT: Whenever I saw Nectarthorn, she always had some kind of…

They shiver in disgust.

POSSUMPELT: Flower-y energy. Not floral, but full of flowers and sunshine and hearts. You might think that’s a good thing, but it’s not. _Never_ a single moment did I see her in a frown or tears or any other-

They hesitate to think of the right word to say to you.

POSSUMPELT: Let’s just say she was- and I think she still is- startlingly optimistic. Of course I questioned it, but I never bothered to tell anyone. Yeah, I regret not doing that.

POSSUMPELT: I just thought she was a simpleton who was just happy to see and spend time with her clanmates. No one suspected all the times she spent with others too, which was odd, I know. Pretty much the same thing happened for moons, feline after feline. Nectarthorn would have a smirk which shows interest of romance on her victim, go up to the cat and strike up a conversation with them, have a couple laughs, spend some moons together as she allured them to their inevitable end. Nectarthorn would have those days when she came back to the camp alone, and no one raised a paw about it. When I was sure no cat would follow for sure, I tried to find the missing clanmates to every line of border separating our clan territory from the others from time to time, but to no avail.

The grey hesitates and turns their head to you. They realized they had been talking a bit too much and forgot about your comfort.

POSSUMPELT: Are you comfortable listening to this? I can stop if you don’t want to hear more.

You look at their green eyes of worry and give out a smile to tell them not to worry, you like hearing from them. They sigh in relief. 

POSSUMPELT: Okay then. Suit yourself. Please tell me to stop if you prefer not to hear more though.

Possumpelt takes a brief breathing exercise to prepare you and themself to the next part of the story. Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale.

_Okay._

POSSUMPELT: Of course, all of Nectarthorn’s deeds never went punished.

POSSUMPELT: I wasn’t there when it happened, but one time when she was chasing after her “lover”. Why, you ask? Clanmates rumor that it was because her “mate for life” was found casually talking to another fellow molly. No biggie, right? Didn’t seem so to Nectarthorn. In all of a sudden, Nectarthorn came out of the bush she was hiding from, and calmingly told her “lover” to go somewhere else as if nothing had happened at all, so she could talk to the other molly in private. She proceeded to passive-aggressively attack and berate the fellow molly for talking to her “lover” and told her she should cut off all contacts with them because they should have been cherishing their time with her always. Her “lover” found it a bit weird at first, and then Nectarthorn’s crimes would start slowly unfolding itself one by one. She started going through their den without permission, sniffing out their most recent pawprints to find out where they’ve been, stalked them, you name it. She was _extremely_ abusive and manipulative. I have absolutely no idea why the supposed victim hadn’t all those blasphemy but they finally lost it when they saw Nectarthorn, paired with dark eyes lovingly gazing at them, _too_ loving, and a paw on what people say was the lifeless body of one of their friends, who was cheerfully talking to them a few hours ago. Shocked to the body, her “lover” ran away from her in fear, and she started chasing them as well. She started to plead and plead “I was doing it for you!”, “You deserved better, you only needed me!” and other useless excuses, good thing they didn’t stop to listen and just kept running. Of course they both got tired, and let’s call her lover “River” for now. They were both at a place where twolegs seemingly abandoned their things there, and Nectarthorn threatened River that she’d find them eventually, and she’d treat them the same way she did to many. As she was sniffing out their scent, she accidentally bumped into something rusty and heavy, it seemed like one of those large twoleg nests but it had deformed tree legs and it looked like a tower or some sort, her bump was the thing that had finally caused the creature to rest, and the big part had fell on her before she could run away from its fall, crushing her body and completely decapitating her head. She was sent to the Drylands on death, and as punishment in the afterlife, her tail was forcefully cut off by vultures in the land and it was set to never heal and bleed for eternaties, vines full of thorns were to sprout out of her torso under her once-glamorous tabby stripes and constrict her entire body constantly. They say each vine symbolizes the pain and suffering she had put her victims and “lovers” through. She still roams the fields today to fool any naive feline who is easy to pity cats who seem brooding in distress. To this day, only sagely souls can see through her disguise.

POSSUMPELT: And her head?

POSSUMPELT: Well…

POSSUMPELT: It was never truly found again.


End file.
